Month: February 2017

The thought of another Flaming Lips album might initially manifest itself in the form of a physical repulsion for some longtime fans, however after a few times through Oczy Mlody (Warner Bros, 2017) fits into the Lips’ eclectic discography just fine.

Wayne Coyne and The Lips are no strangers to experimentation, and in Oczy Mlody (or “eyes of the young,” a nod to the Polish novelist Erskine Caldwell) they craft elaborate textures and explore new and old melodic avenues, with help from with their newest “fwend,” Miley Cyrus.

Let’s be honest, this album is no Soft Bulletin. It’s no Embryonic either. Heck, it’s not even a Yoshimi. But that’s a good thing. Mlody branches out in all the right ways, it’s not excessive in its experimental ventures, and not too shallow in its dream-pop sensibilities.

Mlody draws on several familiar Lips tropes, which, depending on how one perceived them the first time around, could be taken two ways. Some may view these tactics as a righteous extension on the ambient stylistic threads established in 2014’s The Terror, while others may see The Lips as trying to re-purpose stale antics into a new box.

Yet the record sounds nothing like you’d expect it might. It’s not a bubblegum pop-centered Miley Cyrus record, and it’s not an opium-induced psychedelic free-for-all either. It’s unique in a way The Flaming Lips alone know how to devise.

The songs still have their one-of-a-kind qualities, seen on tracks such as, “Almost Home (Blisko Domu)” a whirlwind of arpeggiated synth-tones and reverberated vocals, and “There Should Be Unicorns” which features vocals from Reggie Watts, multi-layer drum sequencing, casio-tones and old school Nintendo sound-effects.

This album signifies an expansion for The Lips. Although, for a group that switches their style up almost every record, it’s actually rather faithful. Mlody has something for every level of Lips fan, catchy hooks and rich production for first timers, and signature Lips riffs and tones for those brave enough to return.

Americana legend Chuck Prophet returns with his 13th solo release, Bobby Fuller Died for Your Sins, out February 10th, but leaves something to be desired.

Prophet, formerly of the Alt-Country/Neo-Psychedelia group Green on Red, has a history in the scene. “We Got Up and Played” recounts his time touring through less-than-glamorous cities with lyrics like, “When we started out / We fought all the time / Dumb and afraid / And out of our minds / But we got up and played.”

The title track, which may be the strongest on the album, recalls the mysterious tale of Bobby Fuller’s death at the young age of 23. Through jangly guitars, a steady bassline, and foot-stomping drum beat “Bobby Fuller Died for Your Sins” conveys the fragility of life and reminds us to stop and smell the roses.

While Bobby Fuller is home to several phenomenal cuts, it’s also stuffed with filler. Specifically, “Bad Year for Rock and Roll” a tired anthem about loving rock ‘n’ roll but getting too old to go out and see it, and “If I Was Connie Britton” an elementary 12-bar blues with equally simple lyrics that propose an alternative lifestyle where, “everything would go [Prophet’s] way.”

Yet, “Jesus Was a Social Drinker” is the biggest offender, a five-minute slow-burner ripe with utterly corn-ball lyrics, painfully simple chord changes, out of place back-up doo-wops, and a persistent cowbell, easily takes first on 2017’s list of cheesiest.

Finally hitting his stride half-way through the album, Prophet puts all the right ingredients together with his proto-punk tribute to Alan Vega, “In the Mausoleum.” Through juxtaposed crunchy and clean guitar tones, slightly reverberated and yelped vocals, a consistent rhythm section, and a ripping solo remind you why Prophet hasn’t quit yet.

If there’s one thing Tinariwen know how to do, it’s create a mind-bending groove with equally potent lyrics, and in their latest release, Elwan, they do just that.

Tinariwen (plural of ténéré, “desert”) is a Tuareg-Berber group from the Saharan Desert region of Mali who blend traditional music stylings with radical contemporary politics. They play Tichumaren, a traditional African blues genre deeply rooted in the political situation of the Taureg people after colonial powers left North Africa.

Elwan evokes powerful imagery throughout. Sometimes in the form of slow, haunting tracks such as “Ittus,” which feature just voice and guitar, where one can almost feel the unyielding heat of the desolate Sahara Desert. While other tracks such as “Sastanàqqàm” and “Tiwàyyen” push the tempo and incorporate a driving tindé drum beat, meaty bassline, and hypnotic guitar riffs.

Tinariwen’s lyrics, perhaps more accurately described as “sung poetry” demand the listener’s complete attention, even if they don’t understand Tamashek. From the reverberated chantings of “Ténéré Tàqqàl” that ponder how “The ténéré has become an upland of thorns/Where elephants (elwan) fight each other / Crushing tender grass / underfoot.”

Tinariwen are masters of conveying emotion and concocting groove, however with track lengths ranging from only three to five minutes it’s hard to get “lost” in the grooves Tinariwen so mesmerizingly forge. A longer album with longer tracks would better suit Tinariwen’s style.

Jay Daniel, the Michigan-born electronic musician/drummer/DJ, humbly pays respect to the early Detroit artists that paved the way, and brings something new to the table with his first full length LP, Broken Knowz (Ninja Tune, 2016).

Daniel’s latest release, Broken Knowz is at times many things– a resonant soundscape, a syncopated sojourn, and a cacophony of global percussion working both in and around genre lines. Broken Knowz urges the listener to redefine what house music should be and how it should sound. But it lacks a necessary cohesion.

Raised in Detroit by his mother, the famous house vocalist Naomi Daniel, Jay Daniel was exposed to the world of electronic music at an early age. But not until moving to Maryland with his father did he discover his passion for drumming.

Daniel effortlessly interweaves funk rhythms, diverse driving percussion, clean production, and rich synth tones, into Broken Knowz, with live drums to boot. Yet the album reads more like a compilation of songs, with each track strikingly different from the last. While this does give Daniel leeway to experiment in different forms throughout the record, it also makes it hard to pin down thematically.

“Paradise Valley” evokes a sense of jazz-inspired dreaminess, nursed by modulated Rhodes chords, a subdued bassline, and a simple but persistent rim-tapped clave pattern. “Niiko” brings the percussion to the forefront, with booming low-end bass drum hits and precision timed go-go bells, almost give the feeling of a fire-side ceremonial dance.

Broken Knowz is a solid addition to the ever-expanding, eclectic collection of Detroit house music, this will not be the last we hear of Jay Daniel.